The Fundamentals Of Spite
by HowAboutThisForAName
Summary: A hero's abilities to raise a family are only that of which he used to save the world, and if that was done with oh so much instability, one can only imagine that his children will suffer from that trauma just as much as he did. M for swearing and dark-ish themes.
1. Direction

**Just something to note, firstly, I don't own Skyrim, but that's a given. Secondly, I'm writing everything as if it was as big as an actual country instead of a spit of land, including Proudspire being a lot bigger, so is Solitude and Skyrim in general. So expect a lot of little changes that actually make things bigger.**

**P.S: Now with betaing.**

Dain Frost-Bow, the Dragonborn, had killed many a people, he had slain Alduin and he had ended the civil war, without taking sides of course. Cause he was a bit of a badass.

He had been adventuring in the land for two and a half years now, but really felt the wear and tear coming through as of recently. His muscles ached from exertion, and his duties follied in the wake of the two largest threats to Skyrim and her people.

It was a lonely life for him, he never was good with women. He would make the occasional flirt here and there and maybe end up in bed after those rare nights of drunkenness, but now he wanted a family. But he knew he wouldn't get it naturally.

His main role was as thane to Jarl Elisif the Fair, helping in court matters since his personal healer had told him not to strain his body to much any more.

Dain was young, young-ish anyway at twenty six, and had the spirit to raise children, but not court a wife. Though he looked a bit older, what with his naturally grey hair and sunken face, but that was just natural for him.

He had made up his mind, and that was the one reason he found himself inside this cart on his way to Riften.

The scenery of Skyrim never ceased to amaze him, the steamy tundra and the freezing snow, the great pines and the beautiful aurora that stretched across the sky. Quite a magnificent sight, but his mind was elsewhere the entire time, the two day journey being used for deep thought. Who would he pick?

He'd been to Honorhall Orphanage before on a whim while a friend was adopting, a certain Lydia wanting a child desperately. He had basically relieved her of duty, and even awarded her his own house in the woman's home city of Whiterun, and he had been with her every step of the way on the path to adoption.

With him on this journey was his favourite housecarl and most trusted, Jordis the Sword-Maiden, clad in imposing dragon bone armour and wielding a sword and shield of the same materials. He himself only wore tavern clothes, but also equipped a pair of glass boots and gauntlets.

He had no weapon, expecting little trouble, and even if he did run into trouble, he was quite adept at hand to hand combat, experiencing it first-hand on a number of occasions. The most confrontational of these is what gave him his right eye's blindness.

Frost-Bow had his head in his hands, remembering past events that had haunted him for months, running his fingers through his stringy locks and sighing thoughtfully and remorsefully.

"Jordis, do you enjoy your job?" He asked out of the blue, looking up and at his housecarl surprising her. Then again, Dain never was one to beat around the bush. "And answer sincerely, the last thing I need is a housecarl that lies." He added, tapping his nose.

"Well..." She started, trying to sum up the words and the courage. "Mostly." She answered blatantly, Nords weren't known for their subtleness, and Jordis was no exception.

"What do you enjoy?" Dain queried, his voice small and quiet.

"Well." She started with again, a fact Dain noted. "I enjoy the adventuring and the conversations, along with the loot and coin to be honest." Jordis admitted, looking here and there as she said it.

Dain nodded, that would be rather obvious in this situation. "Well what do you hate, or if you want to put it gently. Dislike." He retracted, thinking it over absently.

She was quiet for a while, the Housecarl choosing her words carefully, before letting them go. "The chores, cleaning your fuckin' weapons all the time, making sure your armour is in tip top fucking shape! Sweeping the floors and making sure the books are aligned in alpha-fucking-betical order. The shit that transpires every five minutes because somewhat put a bounty on your head, having to sign the release forms whenever you get put in prison. Being the pariah of the guards because my thane's a dick and a lunatic, your moping and crying every time you remember something horrible..." Dain just listened to all of this, taking it in. "... The flirting with random women, human, elf or beast. The occasional flirting with men and the effects it has on people's opinions on you. The stupid and selfish decisions you sometimes make, the shit I have to shovel whenever your horse takes a dump, the fact you ignore guards warnings again and again. Your hassling of Vekel the Man when you didn't agree with him and your subsequent banning from the Thieves Guild." She took a mighty gulp of air, ready to continue. But was shushed by Dain with a swift cut through the air with his hand.

"Enough..." He stated firmly, his voice resounding around the woods and causing the natural noises to go quiet, and causing the horse and carriage driver to flinch. After a moment, Dain opened his eyes, giving Jordis the sharpest look he'd ever given her.

"You..." He stated slowly, voice barely above a whisper. "Are relieved." He finished, before placing his hand down and softening his glare somewhat. "You will go back to Proudspire Manor and gather your things, and then you shall leave. You may keep the gifts I've given you, but I want you gone..." There was no malice in his voice, just disappointment, but it seemed to be in himself.

"Stop the carriage." He stated, and the horse didn't even need to be told. He stepped up, grabbed his satchel, and jumped out. Moving towards the front and leaving a stunned Jordis behind.

"Take her back to Solitude, I'm sure what I gave you will compensate?" Dain ordered, his voice as soft as a wing's beat, but it still terrified the driver, and he nodded furiously.

"Good, farewell Jordis." He stated, speaking the first part to the driver and the second to his former Housecarl, before starting to walk away.

"Yes... Dain." Jordis resigned, watching his slowly retreating back with spite.

…

**I've been meaning to write this for ages now, but just never had the... Inspiration, everything in Skyrim is rather linear after a while, and I needed somethine refreshing. I haven't got Hearthfire, but I will very soon, and with it I can expand a rather narrow sighted world which is great.**

**Also, there won't be a lot of fighting in this story, there may be some. But mostly it's about Dain, his psychological state and his ability to raise a child under the conditions he's been handed and how he's handled them.**

**This also won't get updated often, but when it does I'll attempt to make the chapters somewhat long. The reason for this is because I have another piece of work on Fictionpress under an account of the same name that really needs to get done, so check that out if you want.**

**Yeah.**

**Typhoon out.**


	2. Emotion

As Whiterun was built upon a mountain, it was quite imposing, and blocked out the early morning sun as it dared to creep out from behind the horizon to the theoretical 'back' of the major city.

A centre of trade and commerce, Whiterun was a fortunate city, but even that was nullified by Dain's presence. The man carrying a gloomy aura that few dared to enter the atmosphere of, afraid of what reaction they could cause to the unstable man.

It was well known that the Dragonborn was mentally unstable, his fight with the World Eater within the generally closed gates of Sovngarde effecting his mind with it's incomprehensibility.

No one confronted him, even the guards stood aside as he walked the crowded streets in the uphill battle. The Companions.

He had relinquished the role of Harbinger to Vilkas, not wishing leadership to be his responsibility. His relationship with the Guild had deteriorated to a level of cold business partners, Dain but a contact within the group when something was found too difficult for the men and women of the mead hall Jorrvaskr. This rarely happened.

But this was not his reason for seeing them, just another catalyst, in the back of his mind.

He entered one of the twin doors presented and onto the threshold, eyeing the Companions scattered around the main hall cautiously. They didn't like him, his distant gaze and unorthodox methods isolating him in their eyes.

"So look who decided to show up." A deep yet feminine voice growled, the one spouting the sarcastic comment a red head woman with green splattered across her face.

"Aela." Dain replied shortly, before turning his gaze to find Vilkas.

But the woman had none of it, taking up his field of view with hands on hips. "Don't think you can escape me that easily." She hissed, and Dain sighed depressingly.

"Always the hunter, aren't we." He groaned, and attempted to shoulder past the imposing woman. He was beaten back resentfully, and a slap was planted across his face.

Dain turned his head back slowly, his cheek throbbing. His eyebrows furrowed as if confused, but otherwise his features were unsettled. "You are not welcome here, why should I let you in?" The woman asked, and Dain chuckled.

Taking in his surroundings instantly, he jammed a hand past Aela's head and onto a support beam, trapping her between his arm and a chest of draws. His face changed to a seductive yet soft smile, and hand snaked up her leg quickly before coming to rest on her leg.

"Because otherwise I'll let them know you and I were intimate." He replied curtly, voice soft and quiet so only she could see. Aela's face went red, and her breathing was laboured as the Dragonborn rubbed his knee against her inner thigh.

And in an instant, he pulled away, waltzing off and leaving an embarrassed and almost disappointed Aela behind.

…

To say Vilkas was a hard man was an understatement, with a resolution of steel and a temperament of stone, it was no easy thing to get the man riled up. The last being the death of the previous Harbinger, Kodlak.

He and Dain had a mutual agreement, one they would not disclose to even the other members of the inner circle, and this is what kept them close despite their differing world views.

"Hello again Dain, what brings you to Jorrvaskr, I thought you'd gone off to chase dreams of political highness?" The man questioned, making Dain's hand twitch as he took a seat in the place Kodlak once sat.

"Endearing a thought as that is it is not the reason I join you in this godforsaken overturned ship." Dain replied sharply, earning a grimace from the man across from him.

The once-hero sighed painfully, and pinched the bridge of his nose, staring off at a Daedra heart placed elegantly on a plate. "I need advice." He mumbled, and was met with a chuckle from Vilkas.

"The almighty Dragonborn needs some help from a simple mortal, oh my! I am soooo honoured." The man mocked, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

"Vilkas please." Dain gave the man a pleading look, and Vilkas sighed himself.

"Fine. What is it you need advice on?" He caved, the man before him having a pitiful disposition.

Dain paused, Vilkas was intelligent, more so than himself he suspected. "I can't work a sword like a used too and my political skills have died after my attack on Elisif's housecarl. I have no reason to live any more, and my attempts at getting a child were denied by the orphanage. I want to know what to do with my life." He spilled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vilkas watched the man as he deflated, running a hand through his hair while resting his weight on the table. He looked pathetic, and on the verge of tears. "I can't die a death like an Orc, my fighting skill terrible. I can't hunt any more as my eyesight is dead in the water and I can't play politics or business because I've lost my edge. I need help, and I need it now." He continued, the once almighty Dragonborn reduced to a sobbing mess.

"I saved the world Vilkas, I protected it from destruction and destroyed the World Eater in turn. I set my boot down on his throat before cutting off his head! What the fuck do I get in return!? Recognition? Gold? A wife? NOTHING!" Dain yelled, rattling the furnishing and causing Vilkas to get seriously worried.

This fluctuation in emotion made Dain confused and bleary minded, making him wish for sleep once more. And he found it, Vilkas punching him hard enough to send him sprawling to the ground unconscious.

"Sorry friend, I can't let you do this." The man growled solemnly, and gathered up Dain's knocked out form.

…

**I personally think this is terrible, but I'll post it anyway and see what happens.**

**Typhoon out.**


End file.
